Dear Lily
by Dezzire
Summary: Dear Lily, school was very boring today. We put water and oil in a glass and then sprinkled salt on top. Then we sang some songs. Sarah got in trouble today for being mean to Lisa. Lisa drew a picture of a horse and Ms. Reid said it was beautiful'


I don't really like this, but the plotbunny wouldn't leave me alone, and I felt like posting something

Disclaimer: Don't own Lily, Petunia, Vernon, or 'the boy'. FYI, the first letter is when Petunia is 7, the 2nd when she's 9, the 3rd when 11, 4th when she's 13, 5th when she's 15, 6th when she's 17, and the last one is after she finds Harry at her front door.

Dear Lily,

School was very boring today. We put water and oil in a glass and then sprinkled salt on top. Then we sang some songs.

Sarah got in trouble today for being mean to Lisa. Lisa drew a picture of a horse and Ms. Reid said it was beautiful and hung it up. Danny likes Lisa but Lisa doesn't like Danny. Your Christopher sounds very nice. I fancy a boy named Dudley. He is very pretty and popular. He has blond hair and green eyes just like yours. He fancies me, too. Sarah married us yesterday. He gave me a purple ring, and I gave him my black necklace, and Sarah gave us a round thing with strings and beads and feathers. She says it's supposed to be good luck, and it'll make our marriage last forever and ever and ever. Mom says it's called a dream catcher.

What's it like at boarding school? Do you learn much? Is it as boring as it is in my school? I miss you a lot.

Come back home soon.

Love,  
Petunia

Dear Lily,

Boarding school sounds so much more interesting than _my _school. You seem to have _such _fun. I wish mom and dad would let me go, but you know...the cost and everything. I learned today at school that multiplication is harder than it looks. What's going on at your school?

Muffin is doing fine. She still runs on her wheel going 100 miles per hour every night and tries her best to keep me up, but oiling the wheel is keeping it silent as a ghost. Thanks for the advice.

Michael broke Mr. Brown's mug when he was throwing a baseball in class. Mr. Brown was _awful_ mad. Ralph likes Dorothy and Dorothy likes Ralph, but they're too shy to tell each other. Nick has _finally _caught up with his math, but he still needs to finish his story. Carlin wrote the best one, or so Mrs. Smith says. She says that it was very sensitive and creative, even though I don't think it was anything special. Sharon says she's going to be an actress when she grows up and have nine children, but who would want to marry Sharon when she's so fat?

I like a boy called Whitfield. He has black hair and blue eyes and is very handsome. He's also very smart. He is very steady and sensible, and doesn't believe in rubbish like magic and fairies and dryads. That makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, there's no solid _proof_ that all this exists, and it's so outlandish and out-of-the-ordinary that who _wants_ to believe it all exists? He wants to work as a book-binder when he grows up, just like his father.

Do you get homesick much? I miss you dreadfully.

Come back home soon.

Love,  
Petunia

To Lily,

Well, what's it like at that _abnormal_ school of yours? You wrote a long, fat letter about how it's all 'oh so very enthralling' and how the people are 'wicked nice' to you, but what's it _like?_ Do you fly around on magic carpets to class? Say 'good morning' every day to the Ogopogo and have leprechauns tuck you into bed? Wear black robes and pointy black hats and dye your hair grey? Make potions out of salamander eyes and dragon scales? Turn yourself into big, black cats with yellow eyes?

Regarding your question about whether I was still 'going out' with Whitfield, no, he's going to another school. However, his cousin is equally nice. His opinions are very similar to Whitfield's, and he's a perfect gentleman. He treats me like I'm the most beautiful and precious thing on earth (which, if I say so myself, is not far off from the truth - not to _boast_ or anything) and believes that the best people are the normal ones. I beg, no, I _implore_ you not to mention what you are if you meet him when you come back. I'm doing my best convincing him that my parents favour you, and sent you off to an expensive boarding school far, far away.

Ralph is still 'dating' Dorothy, and the two behave in such a perfectly soppy manner I'm surprised the teachers don't reprimand them. Nick got detention for a month, and Lisa's older sister's best friend is pregnant. Judith is sick with pneumonia, and her little brother has chicken pox. Meredith dyed her hair strawberry blonde, with pale pink tips, and got in trouble.

Please don't send any more bubblegum and 'Dungbombs' in your next letter. The house was a terrible mess for days, and I had a hard time explaining to Warren - that's Whitfield's cousin - why there were blue bubbles floating around that refused to pop. I had to make up some lie about how a young relative had just been here and blowing bubbles, and that of _course_ they popped, he had just missed hitting them.

Don't feel obligated to come home for Christmas.

Yours truly,  
Petunia

To Lily,

Despite all your harping about how much you dislike this Potter, I believe you are growing fond of him. While I certainly do not approve of one of your kind thinking that he is above all other mortals, it is gratifying to learn that despite his oddities, he does not bring home frog spawn. You should strive to be more like this Geraldine Abbot you speak of so disdainfully. She does not show off her abilities, as you do (shamelessly, if I may add), she is quiet and reserved, tries to blend in with everyone else, and, if I read between your lines correctly, is a complete idiot. I am not saying this to sound like mother (who, no doubt, sends you letters daily telling you how wonderful you are and how proud they are of you), but because as your sister, I do not want to see you die in some untimely fashion, such as getting yourself killed by some psychotic madman because you flaunted your 'skills' in 'magic'.

It appears all you talk about these days are how interesting your 'studies' are, and how delightful your 'school' is. Yes, I am still with Warren. Yes, I still do not like my school. Warren and I both feel strongly that the school we have been forced to go to is utterly useless. We also feel that creative writing and physical education are pointless and counterproductive, and that the government is going to the dogs. Creative writing is positively ludicrous - why would I wish to write a 'composition' entitled 'If I fell into my favourite fantasy novel...' and 'If witches existed...'? It is giving people bad, not to mention atypical, thoughts.

Anna fancies Jack, but is too scared to tell him so. Ian was driven to school yesterday by his uncle, riding a big, black motorcycle. Jeff tried to score a goal in football for Beth, but the ball ricocheted off the crossbar and hit him in the forehead. He needed twelve stitches. The insane things people do in the name of 'love'. Eliza threw a party for Danika and baked a large chocolate cheesecake.

I suppose I'll have to see you when you come home for summer. I don't suppose you could simply stay at the school?

Regards,  
Petunia

P.S. The toilet seat was _not _amusing.

To Lily,

The pictures you sent us...well! Mother and father, of course, are absolutely delighted. They seem fascinated by the moving pictures, and enraptured by the people and school. I personally do not see the point in having a giant squid in a lake, not to mention the mere_ idea_ is queer and tasteless.

Yes, you need to lose some weight. You are getting most plump, and the extra earrings - who has _two_ piercings in one ear? - are doing you no favours. I would suggest a diet that consists of water and cabbage only. I have recently been on it, and am now quite svelte and the object of much admiration at my school.

Your room is an absolute mess. I do not know what your kind does in their spare time, but the least you could do is tidy up a little. I feel faintly nauseous simply _looking_ at the state of it. As for what I think of this Potter you talk about in every letter, I would first like to comment that I have never seen such hair. We are not cavemen; there is such thing as a comb. His hair reminds me of an exceptionally furry animal, and leads me to wonder if he sheds. If I were his parents, I would simply cut it all off. If he acts anything like he acts in the pictures, I would advise you to steer clear of him. I realize that you have never listened to my advice, but such a person is up to no good. Mark my words; he will end up in prison some day. Whether it is a normal one or one of yours has yet to be seen.

His dark-haired friend could also use a haircut. My word, do any of your kind know that barbershops _exist?_ His hair is outlandishly long - if you had not told me he was male, I might have mistaken him for a girl. He seems clean and well-mannered, which is more than I can say about Potter, and I suppose you can give him that. However, I disapprove strongly of his rings. Men, or even boys, should not wear jewellery. It is gauche and unconventional, and I would advise you to steer clear of him, as well. Though he may not end up in prison, he will likely be a robber when he grows up.

The brown-haired one acts as any of your kind should act in the picture, quiet and unobtrusive. His clothes, though, are fearfully old and ragged. He looks unkempt, unclean, like a man who lives on the streets, and another person you should stay away from.

The last one seems like the most suitable friend for you. I am not trying to rule your life, I am simply trying to be a thoughtful elder sister and keep you as normal as possible, although I do not believe such a thing is possible. He is quiet, clean, with neatly trimmed hair and tidy clothing, and makes a point of bowing to us at any opportunity. This is how your kind should treat us.

As for me, I have met a respectable young man by the name of Vernon Dursley. He wishes to go into the drill-making business when he grows up, abhors anything out of the ordinary, and thinks everyone and everything should be uniform. I agree with him whole-heartedly. There is nothing more aggravating than seeing some youngster, probably up to no good, wearing bright orange pants and a shirt she made herself with a complicated hairstyle and too many body piercings to count.

Patricia got a job at a bakery and dropped out of school. Donald impregnated Meredith and is thinking about proposing to her, despite the fact that he is only 15 years of age. Sandy is failing -

I, unlike you, do not have enough spare time to traipse around taking pictures, and must study for my exams. Please do not send the next letter by owl.

Sincerely,  
Petunia

To Lily,

Congratulations on your wedding. I cannot make it, as I have an extremely important appointment on that day. Enclosed please find your wedding gift. Do not bother responding to this letter, as Vernon proposed to me a month ago. We will get married in a year. I am severing all ties with you, and short of informing me of mother or father's death, I do not wish to hear from you. I do not want to expose any child of mine to any of your people.

From,  
Petunia

P.S. In case you were wondering (and you always are), the dream catcher is the same one a classmate of mine had given me when I 'married' Dudley at the age of seven.

Dear Lily,

Well. Well. It appears as though you've gotten yourself and that freakish husband of yours blown up. And landed me with your child. How dare you? How dare you? I have spent all my life trying to avoid you and your people, trying to be as normal as possible. I have spent my life pretending that I do not have a sister, and you have to join some barbarous club and get yourself killed! If I had my way, I would have simply sent the boy to an orphanage! But it seems this man, _Dumbledore_, is one step ahead of me. Rest assured, I will not get rid of the child. I am intelligent enough to read the subtle threat in the letter he left me.

I suppose I should be upset. That I should grieve. You are, after all, my sister. Yet I cannot bring myself to mourn over your death. Perhaps I am still too incensed over the fact that I must raise this boy. _Your _boy.

You should be thanking me profusely for this in Heaven or Hell, wherever you ended up. I yearn to say Hell, which is where all of your kind should end up, but my heart tells me that your dying to save your child and your childhood before you went to that dratted school will ensure you a place in Heaven. You were such a lovely child, obedient, sweet-tempered, normal as could be. Before you went to that school, you were my baby sister. We shared a special bond. When you received the letter and I did not, I was crushed, and so was our friendship.

Vernon was talking about sending him to an orphanage. I admit, the idea was tempting. You have no idea how hard it was convincing him not to. I finally had to resort to a lie, and I hope fervently that it comes true: _'If he stays with us, it'll stamp all trace of you-know-what out of him.' _

Remember what mother and father said? How they drilled into our little heads the importance of family, even if we hated each other? I don't like the boy, Lily. But I'll keep him, out of respect for my parents - _our _parents - and that's the most I can do. I don't think you would have expected any more of me.

Rest in peace, sister.

Respectfully,  
Petunia


End file.
